


Damsel in Distress

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Skye | Daisy Johnson, Canon Disabled Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Phil Coulson, Phil Coulson - Damsel in Distress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:38:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy rescues Phil Coulson, Damsel in Distress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damsel in Distress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts), [RowboatCop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/gifts).



> This is the first fic I've managed to finish for several months - and I couldn't write it fast enough. Set in a post-S2 near future.

"Honestly, Phil, you're such a damsel in distress these days," Daisy says teasingly as she vibrates the handcuffs that are restraining his arms behind the chair he's sitting in.

He scowls, and she smirks at him as she moves in front of him to untie the ropes that bind his ankles and legs to the chair.

"Nothing to say?" she asks, and removes the gag.

"I'm not a damsel," he tells her with as much dignity as he can muster.

She chuckles, then eases his arms from behind his back. She crouches beside the chair and begins massaging his shoulders, then his upper arms, loosening the muscles that are painfully tight from far too many hours (and how long is it since he was captured, he wonders) in the same position.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly, her tone totally serious now.

"All the better for seeing you," he quips, and she smirks, then holds out her hands and when he grasps them, she pulls him up out of the chair. He's surprised when she wraps her arms around him as soon as he's upright, but he hugs her back, pleased and grateful.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly.

"I am now," she tells him. She pulls away from him, but keeps one arm around him as she moves toward the door. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Where are the others?"

"Mike's in Zephyr One, and Bobbi and Akela are sweeping the rest of the building for any stragglers."

She guides him out of the building, through the dank, dark corridors, and he blinks hard, eyes watering at the glare of bright sunlight after hours in that windowless room. Wordlessly she hands him a pair of sunglasses, and he puts them on gratefully, then follows her as she leads him across the field towards the Zephyr One.

"Bobbi, Akela, I've got the Director," she says. There's a pause as she listens to their response. "Okay. Mike, wheels up in five." They walk up the ramp into the jet, and Daisy takes him directly to the medbay.

"I'm okay," he protests.

She scoffs. "Sure you are, Phil," she says, and he feels the usual flutter of excitement when she calls him that. "Your vibrations are telling me a totally different story."

He gazes at her, feeling astonished all over again at the extent of her powers. "What are they telling you?" he asks curiously.

"That you're dehydrated, hungry, sleep-deprived, and suffering from a reaction to the bright lights," she says. "Your vibrations didn't tell me that, by the way – I worked that out from the fact you're still wearing your aviators." She guides him to sit on the chair beside the exam bed, and runs a hand lightly down his left arm. "Also, they fucked up your prosthetic."

He swallows, his throat feeling tight and dry. "Daisy – " he says, then stops, appalled at how shaky he sounds.

"Phil." She leans down and presses her lips to his forehead, squeezing his right shoulder with her free hand. "Let me get you something to drink, first, okay?"

He nods dumbly, afraid to try to speak in case he cries. He's not sure why he suddenly feels so overwhelmed. Maybe it's the fact that he's finally safe, and safely in Daisy's hands.

She squeezes his shoulder again, then goes out, leaving the door ajar. A moment later he hears footsteps, and then Bobbi and Akela are peering in at him.

"Director," Akela says quietly, giving him a nod, and he nods back before she moves away.

"You okay, sir?" Bobbi asks.

"I've been better," he tells her, then adds, "and worse."

She gives him a small smile, then steps aside as Daisy returns. "You're in good hands," she says, and strides away.

Mike tells them to 'strap in', and then Coulson feels the plane lifting off. Daisy holds his right shoulder, keeping him steady, then passes him a bottle of something.

"What is this?" he asks, staring at the bottle in puzzlement.

"Water and fruit juice," she tells him, "enriched with vitamins and minerals and electrolytes. Simmons makes it up for me by the gallon, and I always bring two or three bottles with me on a mission." She takes the bottle from him again and cracks the top, then gives it back. "Drink that while I sort out your prosthetic."

He nods, and takes a cautious sip, then a bigger swallow once he realises it tastes good. He watches as Daisy kneels on the floor beside the chair and holds his left wrist in her left hand, while slowly drawing her right hand up his arm from wrist to shoulder. She's not touching him, but he can feel the air vibrating over his prosthetic and then his skin. He has no idea exactly what she's doing, any more than he knows exactly what Ward's thugs did to his arm, but the wrongness in his arm is easing off as Daisy works, and he feels himself relaxing bit by bit.

"There," she says, sounding quietly satisfied. "That's better, isn't it?"

He nods as he finishes the last of the bottle of drink she brought him.

"Good." She digs in the pocket of her pants and brings out a couple of chocolate bars. "Here, eat these, then you can get some rest."

"Thank you." He still feels shaky, but it's not as bad as before, he's relieved to realise.

"We'll be in the air for at least a couple of hours," she tells him. "Why don't you lie on the bed?"

He nods, his mouth full of chocolate, and lets her help him up onto the exam bed. She takes his shoes off, and he feels her hand curl around his ankle.

"I'm going to go and debrief Bobbi and Akela," she says. "I'll be back straight after that, though, okay?"

"Thank you," he whispers.

She squeezes his ankle, her gaze loving and concerned. "I'll be back," she repeats, then moves out, closing the door behind her.

AC-S-AC-S-AC

Coulson isn't aware of falling asleep, but he wakes suddenly and has a moment of panic – heart racing, mouth dry, muscles tensing – until a familiar voice says, "Shh, it's okay, I've got you." He feels a warm hand on his right arm and opens his eyes to see Daisy standing beside him.

"What – " he begins, then stops because his mouth and throat are dry and tight.

Daisy helps him to sit up, then puts a bottle of drink in his hand. "Have some of this," she tells him, and he obeys, taking three or four big swallows before he tries to speak again.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asks.

"Couple of hours." She still has her hand on his arm, he notices, and is grateful for the warmth of the contact. "We're nearly at the Playground. About fifteen minutes out."

"Oh." He passes her the half empty bottle and she screws the cap back on, then sets it on the little side table. 

"How are you feeling, Phil?"

"A bit less shitty," he tells her, and she smirks at his word choice.

"Good. Jemma's going to want to give you a quick once-over when we get back, but I've assured her that you're in reasonably good shape." She grins. "She'll probably order bed rest, but I'll leave it up to you whether you want to obey her on that one."

He nods. "I don't think I said this before, but thank you for coming for me."

She snorts softly. "As if I'd do anything else." She surprises him by wrapping her arms around him and he hugs her back. "You're my partner, Phil, just as much as Mack. And I don't leave people behind."

He is grateful when he hears Mike announce their arrival at the Playground because he suspects he might cry with gratitude otherwise.

Daisy helps him off the exam bed, then puts his shoes back on for him, before taking his hand and leading him off the jet and along the corridors to the Infirmary.

"I'm going to leave you with Simmons while I go shower and change," she tells him, squeezing his hand. "I'll be back right after that, okay?"

He nods, squeezing her hand back, then forces himself to release it before it looks odd or awkward.

AC-S-AC-S-AC

When Daisy returns twenty minutes later, she's wearing a sleeveless shirt and jeans, both black, and she's carrying her tablet.

"Okay?" she asks, looking from Coulson to Jemma.

Simmons nods. "I've advised the Director to get some more rest," she says, "but he can work in his office if he feels he must."

Daisy smirks at that, then looks at Coulson. "Debrief first?"

He nods, and she smiles at him, then gives Simmons a nod. "Thanks Jemma."

"You're welcome."

Daisy leads the way out of the Infirmary and up to his office. When he moves towards his desk, however, she grabs hold of his wrist, and leads him over to the couch.

"Despite what Jemma said, I don't think you should do too much today."

He's surprised to find he doesn't feel annoyed by this declaration. "Okay."

"Good." They sit down together, and she gives him a thorough debriefing. He listens intently, feeling a growing sense of pride at how competent and capable she has been – and always is. He can't help recalling the young woman who came aboard the Bus two and a half years ago, and contrasting how far Skye, or rather Daisy, has come.

"Phil." Her quiet voice cuts through his reverie, and he gives her an apologetic look. "I think you should go to bed," she tells him. "I'll bring you something to eat, and then you should rest."

"Yes ma'am," he says, and she rolls her eyes, then chuckles, before helping him to his feet.

"You're incorrigible," she says teasingly.

"Pot, kettle," he tells her, and she laughs.

"Yeah, okay." She gives him a little push towards the door, and he turns to pull her into a hug. "Someone's very touchy-feely today," she observes.

"Do you mind?" he asks, his voice a bit muffled since he's got his face in her neck.

"Never," she says in a reassuring tone. 

"Good." He tightens his arms around her briefly, then releases her. She leans in and kisses his forehead – a gesture he's beginning to like a little too much, he suspects. 

"I'll go and get you some food," she says, and he nods, then pulls away, and they go their separate ways at the door of his office.

As he changes into the sweatpants and t-shirts he usually wears in bed, Coulson can't help feeling grateful for Daisy, and the way she cares about him and for him. It means a lot to him, and if he sometimes wishes it was more, he's still happy to take what he can get. 

As he settles into bed, propped against the headboard by his pillows, he thinks that maybe being a damsel in distress isn't so bad after all – although he doesn’t plan on making a habit of it.


End file.
